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Polar ---- Think of the tundra. It arcs, it races, it flies across a pristine white landscape, burying bodies and flesh under the cool cement of ice. Paws dot its surface, seeking life among the hardy and inhospitable crags of a frosty home, constantly in fear of survival. And those who do survive must be tougher than the elements, stronger than a wayward gale, cold-hearted and efficient, willing to do whatever they must to eek out an existence. Her family is long descended from these icy dwellers, and her line is a proud untapped lineage of power, from the ice goddess Glacies to her scarred father. She knows that hundreds of years of blood beat within stretched veins, and is willing to make the most of it. The time is changing, she can no longer rely on her hunter past to help her survive. Many of her ancestor’s secrets are worthless. But if there is something her people know how to do, it is stubbornly adapt against the relentless ocean tide, holding on to their superiority. |-| Appearance = ❆ Appearance ❆ ---- She is unremarkably radiant, blessed with average and crowd-blending features but the determination to make herself stand out. What she fears most is being another forgotten face, so what she holds on to is what she knows attracts dragons to her. Her face is narrow, diamond-shaped and snake-like, perfect for craning downwards at anyone who displeases her. Her body shines with a cold sheen, and is a pale blue like the ice in a crevasse, all metallic and glimmering due in part to her rigorous beauty regimen. Eyes like dark water capture yours, like foam and froth beating against the endless surf. Her deep blue eyes are not glazed or frosted over but rather sharp and eagle-like, betraying her tendency to analyze, even when it seems she isn’t paying attention. A small ring like a fish hook glints on her brow, accompanied by a tiny blue scar, an purposeful addition in her youth that she has struggled to remove. It matches the silver ring on her dark blue tongue, an eccentricity she likes to flaunt to show that she isn’t all glassy authority, an eccentricity that she curses behind the public’s back. Down her neck and back spiral pale crystalline spines, much like the icicles of her home city, razor-sharp and pointed. Her body is all angles and planes, emphasizing her unusually large frame and massive height. Her claws are serrated like knives, and on them glitter multiple rings. She’ll show them off in particularly tense situations, pretending that they are all family heirlooms. Her wings are not unusual for her species and arc over her back, membranes the same color as freshly fallen snow and webbed subtly with blue veins. They aren’t particularly large considering her size, and she has occasional trouble flying. Her tail is covered by the same icicle spines that race down her spine, and is very long and whip-thin. She holds it up along with her head proudly, but also as a statement - she is deadly and will not be trifled with. But the strangest part about her otherwise mundane appearance is her freckles. Childish and undignified, they speckle her cheeks, powerful forearms, legs, and tail, all intense blue and obnoxious. Soft blue stains her freckled cheeks, making her look meek despite her icy cruelty. They are imperfections, bits of soft mercy exposed. When Polar walks, she is glanced at from all directions, as dragons gawp and comment about them. She knows that freckles are a SandWing trait, but she insists that her lineage is pure - it is too much to consider mixed-blood in her clan, it must be impossible. |-| Abilities = ❆ Abilities ❆ ---- Her abilities are not unusual for a dragon of her status and species. She can breathe a potent frostbreath, even more dangerous than the average male’s or female’s due to her training. What she lacks for in speed, she makes up for in size and strength, as she can easily overpower enemies with her bulk alone in a one-on-one match. She struggles at flight, but can immobilize an attacker if she lashes them with her tail in the right places, as she keeps her spines carefully sharpened in case of emergency. Due to her risky business, she is always analyzing weak spots on her associates and enemies alike. It is hard for her to be blinded by anything, with her high light tolerance, and can easily camouflage in frigid climates with her ice colored scales. She is skilled with wielding the harpoon, a valued skill in her tribe, as it is useful in fishing but also has limited use in threatening situations to trap opponents. Due to her heritage, she can also effectively fight with a lance, an ancestral weapon of her clan, but only has done this in duels or extreme situations in which she must fight for her life. In close quarters, she uses her serrated claws to deal damage instead, as lances are a typically long-range weapon. Polar can swim to a minimal extent, but cannot hold her breath for very long. She relies on overpowering her prey quickly and dragging them to the surface rather than fighting aquatically. |-| Personality = ❆ Personality ❆ ---- Polar’s movements are crisp and effortless or at least seem so. Just as her aristocratic standing has defined her to be is what she is. She spends little time thinking of the concerns of others; it’s neither strategic for survival or for the benefit of her weapons industry, and she instead is self-effacing and arguably self-centered. Oh yes, she can appear to care, she’s seen enough of the world to understand how it seems from the outside, and to maintain the image of her glassy and perfect family, but she doesn’t really. Neither does she mean the significant glance she gives at the end of every carefully planned speech. Polar is tall and imposing, she is what everyone would expect of the stereotypical IceWing. Rigid, unyielding, and fiercely beautiful like her homeland. Carefully pristine. Tough and unflinching. Unable to cry. But Polar is not smooth as ice. Inside her psyche are chips and cracks, small fault-lines that froze over incompletely, weaknesses. She is brittle. There are certain topics that cause her much hurt, enough to feel rage burn inside her core. The suggestion that she is inferior, that she is ever less than pure as she claims, is infuriating. Even if she doubts herself, she would never admit to it, and would punish anyone who were to say the truth. By appearing superior, Polar attempts to mask her hatred for other tribes and feelings of inferiority deep within. And yet more terrible, her self-loathing. After the end of the great war, all of them moved back into her city, dirtying their kingdom. And no matter how much she is told to accept them, no matter how many times she attempts to smile upon seeing the strange and foreign faces, she cannot shake her fury at them invading her home. Deeper still, Polar fears her way of life changing even more from their arrival, and fears the IceWing culture will collapse - becoming an identity-less mixing pot. Polar hates them even more personally for destroying her family and killing her father, her precious father. But as well as hatred for them, she holds hatred for herself, and for events she cannot control. Above all, control is key. Polar is scared of so many things: never living up to her father’s dream for her, forgetting her sister’s memory, the public learning of her impure parentage, her beauty fading away leaving her a hag, being forgotten by the world, her own death - repeated in all of her nightmares, failing the business, failing her tribe, never becoming queen as she vowed… The list is endless, and with no one to confide in, she bottles it up within, only releasing it in explosive bursts of rage when she is alone. Or tears, when she feels vulnerability and the shame that goes along with it, dripping down the drain. Sometimes, she allows herself to indulge in sharp anger instead of smiles, being passive-aggressive to dragons who speak to her, making cutting remarks to ignore the pain throbbing beneath her skin. She is a hypocritical as well. On one talon, she loathes war. It’s messy, and it’s filthy, it uproots homes and puts her, even indirectly, into perilous danger. War is chaos, where anarchy rises and it is the very definition of instability. But war has given her family all the coin it needed to survive, it caused her bloodline to rise from lowly seal-hunters to a multi-million dollar empire. And she can’t deny that war itself is in her blood as well, with her lieutenant grandfather and grandmother killed in the Battle for Succession after siring her father. So she claims to bring peace, while knowing that her own weapons may end up in the hands of her hated enemy, used to kill her own people. She smiles at death itself and laughs a moment or two, as if by saying that she means well she truly does mean it. Everything is tangled and knotted, but she cares. Somewhere inside her frigid heart is a seed of warmth, enough to want her father to praise her, and enough to want her sister alive. Polar is weak enough, or kind enough, to let the queen live, despite her father’s frantic urges to get poison slipped into her water or a knife into her throat. She knows that it could be worse, that she could be a murderer, or already dead and on the floor. Despite all the layers of her life, she keeps the tenderness inside safe, enclosed by spines of steel, rose thorns. Someday, she promises, someday she’ll let someone inside her nightmarish world and make herself open enough to care. It’s her fantasy, that someone sees through all of her acts and disguises and understands that in the end, she’s crying for help. But there is no answer. |-| History = ❆ History ❆ ---- Part I Born to the aristocratic Frigate and his amorous servant, Ptarmigan, she was already an illegitimate child from the start. But Frigate, if anything, was a man of secrets and perfect at concealing his numerous affairs, and especially his most valued one - she most pleased his senses and his intellect. Polar was born cradled in her mother’s arms, tenderly loved for only a few moments before she was snatched away from the nest she was born and handed to a dragon hired to be her nursemaid. Ptarmigan was tried for her infidelity, as she already had a husband and a small son of her status. Miraculously, she was acquitted of all charges (perhaps with Frigate’s bribery) but was forbidden to ever see her dragonet again. But she was a spirited youth, and never saw a cloud darken her sky. She would romp for hours in the snow, learning to hunt and brave the harsh environment she was born in. Her town was very close to the center of the kingdom, and as such, hunting parties took off frequently - some kind enough to teach the basics to her as a dragonet. Her life was a basic paradise, and all she had to do was simple tasks. Hunt and catch her prey from the ocean, play by herself, and sleep before midnight. Her maid warned her away from playing with the dragonets of commoners and nobles, just as Frigate had commanded. Their views, Polar was told, were all wrong, and they were a crude sort of dragonet - not as valuable as her nor as intelligent. Proud at the fact that she was smarter than them, she stayed away, despite lingering curiosity and the urge to explore. It was not long until her dragonet days had passed her by, and she had to begin to be tutored. The most qualified IceWing scholars from far and wide were handsomely payed by her father to teach her. The subjects were complex: eloquent draconic, economics and mathematics, etiquette and poise. Polar would be a proper example of how their tribe should be raising their young, a tiny prodigy. Polar hardly knew any of this, only that her life was more restricted and that she could no longer play outside. But as she grew closer to the whisperings of the palace, she began to learn more about the whys of her life. Listening to the chatter of servants and first circle dragons as she passed them, she heard scraps of information that she’d turn over in her mind every night. That Frigate had another child who had fallen ill, that the healers said that they would die, that he was out of his mind with worry and fear, that there was a son who had been assassinated in the middle of the night, that his ghost still wandered the halls, crying out for justice... Polar was at once troubled but exhilarated. She finally knew more about her father, and about the secrets of her family. But what she did know was terrifying. I have a dead brother? What if I’m killed too? Like ‘chk’! Daddy wouldn’t let that happen to me, would he? What if a SandWing did it? They have scary black eyes, I bet they would. And a sister too! But she’s sick, really sick. I want to see her, I wonder why she’s a secret. Why everyone’s a secret? I want a family - please, please let her get better so she can play too. Feeling the impulsive yearning for company awaken in her after years of being starved for affection, Polar found herself wandering past her room and instead searching for the sick room. She asked a maid, but they refused to tell her, it was no place for their young mistress to stay. But Polar was persistent, sneaking through the icy halls of the palace until she began to her a strange scratching noise. Heading closer, she eventually poked her head through an open door, blinded by the light reflecting off the cold blue walls. As her eyes adjusted, all she could see was something that looked hardly alive. It didn’t move, and it didn’t breathe. It didn’t make a sound. It’s body was grey, leathery and drawn, its eyes faint and hollow. She headed towards the cold creature and poked it, but it didn’t stir. She shook it harder, but nothing happened. “Wake up, wake up!” Polar cried, bile rising up from her throat. Sister couldn’t be dead! She couldn’t! The healers said they would save her! Her scales scraped roughly against the limp form lying in the snowy mound, and she pulled her talons away from it, heart bounding so loudly she thought it would burst. She never noticed a nurse’s light touch on her shoulder, nor their quiet snarl telling her to back away. Breathing harsh, talons grabbed her face and forced her to look away. “Do not bother with the heir. She is dead.” The medic stated flatly, eyes clinical and devoid of emotion. Polar couldn’t bear to look into their dark eyes, almost black eyes. All she felt was a terrible sadness lunge over her, burying her in a tidal wave of emotion. She could’ve had a sister. A friend. A playmate. Someone to care. But now, all she had was a dead sister. She was gone, and gone forever. She didn’t wander the palace long after that, and swore she could hear the ghost of her dead brother wailing in the night. Part II It wasn’t long until Polar became ‘educated’ just as her father wished her to be. She could perfectly negotiate between opponents in a situation (as shown by her diplomacy while advising the younger noble dragonets of the palace), could speak with as much eloquence as he pleased, and was additionally able to fight with skill. Along with her usual lessons, she was taught how to use the lance, and enjoyed sparring with the few dragonets able to match her skill. After years of winning to them, she couldn’t help but think of herself as much better than they ever could be. But the most important lessons that Polar learned were outside of the classroom and away from her tutors. When she was rarely allowed outside the palace, she began to come to her own conclusions about the world. That the poor were always meant to be poor - as they were more brutish and less intelligent than she. After all, why did they fight over scraps when they could share? That only the best in her society were rich. Her father was the smartest noble she knew, her tutors equally so. The other foppish dragons must’ve just not known how to become rich. That IceWings were the best. It had to be true, didn’t it? None of the other tribes seemed to be half as wealthy or disciplined. But the final heartbreaking one was that life was unfair and had to be unfair. She could never alter the horrible fate that befell her sister, and it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she could never ever gain the company of a friend. She was much too strange for them, an adult in a child’s body, speaking confusing words. Her lonesomeness ached and tore a dark hole in her chest, but she covered it up - she didn’t need a friend, she insisted in denial, they were all too stupid and foolish for her anyway, and they were too manipulative, all they wanted was to be close to her for money. She needed no one, she decided, no one but herself. Part III It was a miserable day in which she saw her father the first time in her entire life. For no known reason, her nursemaid shook her shoulder roughly, and she was rudely awoken. Peering out a small carved window, the day was obscured by a blizzard of snow, covering the world in another sheet of white. Before long, she was dressed in rare satins and a silver tiara was placed atop her horns. Walking sleepily and stiffly, she was guided to the advisory room of the palace, which before then, she had never been allowed to see. And Polar’s heart stopped. He was standing, rigid and icy, whispering to another dragon donning gold by his shoulder. His snout was long and pointed, his grey eyes were narrowed as if he were always squinting, and two stray teeth poked through his sharp jaw. He drew his long tongue quickly over his teeth before addressing her in a rushed breath. “Daughter. Polar is it? Come close.” His voice was lilted and soft, much more beautiful than his outside appearance. She found herself compelled to act exactly as he ordered, and drew to his side, trembling and unsure. “Lift your head up,” grunted her father more roughly. “Say hello to Petrel.” Remembering her training, Polar lifted her shoulders up and sat looming at her full height. “Good morning, Petrel.” Glancing at the stranger’s throat, she saw a ring indicating they were First Circle - same as she. The dragoness nodded in return, hardly interested in what Polar had to say. She waited for her father to speak to her, but he started to be engaged in conversation with Petrel. It was a long and boring conversation, but she caught a few interesting snippets. Trouble at the border. It must be those SandWing savages again. They’re always up to mischief, Glacies knows why we haven’t silenced their violence already. Before long, the other noble bowed before leaving father and daughter alone. Polar caught her father’s wings briefly brushing against Petrel’s and a few final words, about a dragonet? Her eyes were constantly drawn to his face, and he finally had the politeness to introduce himself. “Frigate, noble of the palace, son of Sheathbill.” he added as a last minute note. Taken aback, Polar asked, “Father, why did you call me here?” Why didn’t you come before? “For a special announcement, just for you.” He responded smoothly, whisking his tail aside to make a space for her to sit. “You are to be my official heir and inherit my weapons business, and perhaps even heir to the throne of the IceWings. That is what you have been training for.” Polar smiled, eyes shining as she took it in. “But you will have to prove yourself. Not only against other dragonets, but against your sister.” “I don’t have a sister.” Polar sighed, staring at the icy floor beneath her claws. “She’s dead.” “You will.” Frigate murmured, pausing to look thoughtfully at the door Petrel had left through. “You will.” The noble echoed, his voice eerily sounding over the wide room and bouncing off the icicles high above. Part IV The game was on. Polar focused every second of the day on her studies and left no time for playing. She no longer was a dragonet, and so she could not focus on petty socialization. If she were to be queen, no matter how hard that would be, she would need the skills to do it. It seemed that every day, her sister grew bigger, stronger, and smarter. It chafed at her heart to think of competing with her, but she realized that it was foolish to care. After all, Equinox would have no remorse in beating her to be the heir. No doubt her serpent mother had taught her how to lie, cheat, and backstab. Sneaking out to a dragon skilled in piercing decoratively, Polar had no choice but to rely on a rogue SandWing hybrid to help her. They were kind, grudgingly she admitted, but they were the exception. Most were just bloodthirsty beasts. With a piercing to her tongue and brow, she radiated even more authority. And with everything she strove for perfection, and with everything she became obsessive. Her beauty, her speech, everything about her had to be perfect. It was down to the wire between them. Day by day, Equinox and Polar competed with the same tutors, neither willing to give up the position of heir. Glowing remarks were written about both, and they were highly praised. There was only one way to truly decide. Her father had decided that it would be in blood. Whichever sister could kill the other would earn all the glory. And he would no longer have a mess on his talons. Part V It would be that night that one would have to kill the other. Polar clutched at her lance, hiding inside of her room. Despite all of her preparation, nothing could prepare her for this moment. The moment where she would sacrifice everything. She paced around, slowly but surely, watching the moonlight beam down to illuminate the nest of ice where she slept. Memories seeped into her mind, as gentle as the moonlight bathing her white form. Polar and Equinox laughing over a rare joke, Polar touching Equinox on the forehead when she was ill, romping together in the snow. Pain pierced her chest. How could she ever ask her sister to kill her? Her sister was so much younger, and couldn’t...Polar couldn’t bear to see her suffering from blood on her talons. Wielding her spear, she crept along the hallways, ghosting about. All of them were silent. The nobles, princesses, princes, and servants were asleep. The IceWing stalked among the corridors until she reached Equinox’s room, and poked her head in. Her younger sister was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, she felt a force leap on top of her and bowl her over. Quiet snarls filled the air, and teeth gleamed and gnashed an inch from her face. “It’s over,” Equinox panted, brandishing a silver spear. It brushed Polar’s throat. “Do you think I would just let you steal the glory sister? You’re idiotic for living for so long. It’s that peasant brain of yours.” The grey IceWing jabbed the spear rougher into her throat, drawing blue blood. “You can’t do this,” Polar growled, struggling. “You can’t kill me. Remember all the times we had together? Remember?” “Sentiment does nothing!” Equinox blasted. Her words sounded like something their father would say. “I’m done with sharing everything with you. I’ll-I’ll kill you!” She cried, talons shaking as she held the spear. Tears began to drip down her face. “Then do it,” Polar sighed, exposing her neck and shutting her stinging eyes. “Make it quick.” All she could hear was the spear clattering to the floor and her younger sister’s sobs. Polar, feeling the pressure pinning her down lighten, got back to her talons. “Someone has to die.” “I-I know. I-I’m sorry.” Equinox hiccuped, wings flaring. “Can’t we kill a servant?” “He’ll know. He always does.” Polar knew what she had to do. Her heart became a stone in her chest. Holding her lance in her talons, she plunged it into Equinox’s chest, watching her face grow from sadness to horror to betrayal. Hatred and pain filled her little sister’s dark blue eyes, so much like her own. Polar speechlessly crumpled, catching her before she fell to the ground. Her eyes closed and she felt her chest burn so much, as if a fire consumed her from within. “I had to. I had to.” She repeated again and again, numbly. Blinking, the entire world swirled with white through her tears. She placed Equinox’s body down. Her eyes were small and dark in death, her body grey and leathery, her form light and limp. Deep inside of her rose a scream of horror as she felt the two bodies she had seen match - twins in death. Long live the heir. Part VI That same night, her father was murdered. She never knew that an assassin had sneaked into the palace. She learned the story, just as her sister and father were being laid to their final rites. A SandWing-IceWing hybrid, formerly a piercing artist and guard, had sneaked into the palace in the middle of the night. Wielding only a knife, they had approached her father and silenced him. Due to his pride, Frigate had not a single guard on duty to monitor him while sleeping. So both were laid to sleep in the snow, and prayers to Glacies were breathed over them. All Polar could feel was guilt and emptiness churning inside of her. Damn her. Damn those hybrids, those foreigners who had come over after the War was complete. Damn those dragonets who made everyone try to accept each other. She felt hatred consume her soul. Self-loathing, anger, and pent-up rage. Her father had stood alone against the barbarian, he was brave. In the face of that, the despicable order he had given seemed acceptable. Minor. It was her fault that she killed her sister. All her fault. When she returned to the palace that morning, just before the dawn, she prowled into her room. And like a demon straight from the depths, she tore it apart, piece by piece. Smothered her bed, smashed her trinkets from her sister (which she never deserved), threw a carving of her mother to the ground. She crushed jewelry beneath her claws, and tore at her piercings in fury. She would become righteous. She would be who her father and sister always wanted her to be. What the IceWings truly needed. She would run her weapons business no matter what, grow even more rich and powerful. Her father wanted the crown? She would get the crown. She would get anything for him, and more. She would rise. And from that point on, she was never the same. Oh yes, she was the same on the outside. A glassy beauty hard to match. But on the inside there were fractals. And a cold determination. She will not be crossed, not by anyone. |-| Relationships = ❆ Relationships ❆ ---- Equinox: (before) “I hardly know why I even tolerate her! She’s just a vicious lying snake, she is.” (after) “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t deserve to live.” Most siblings have rivalries. But between Equinox and Polar, there was total warfare, focused on humiliation and annihilation of the opponent. They never stopped looking for ways to outshine each other, and each of their interactions was loaded with double entendres and passive-aggressive attacks. Polar never let up on pressuring her sister, and Equinox was equally as fierce. While Equinox jabbed at Polar’s parentage and diplomacy mistakes, Polar criticized Equinox’s manners and calls her peculiar. She never dared cross the line in insulting her mother however. Somewhere inside, Polar truly cared for her sister, and was afraid of losing her, just as her other siblings were brutally lost, but covered it up with blusters and wasn’t afraid to threaten her either. She wished that once and a while they could be kind, but it isn’t easy to change their horrible relationship. After her death, Polar considers Equinox only with sadness. It’s her fault that she never got to survive, but she had to didn’t she? Didn’t she? All of her excuses ring hollow, and she knows that she is a murderer, cold-hearted and true. Frigate: “Father is the reason why I exist. He’s my entire world. Both heaven and the underworld.” Polar has complicated feelings towards Frigate. She truly obeyed and valued her father almost to the point of losing all individuality, and due to her education still believes him to be the pinnacle of all creation. But there is something that used to make her terribly uneasy about him. There was a savagery lurking below the surface of his careful words, and she didn’t want it unleashed on her. So she strived to obey as much as possible to get into his good graces. It wasn’t only his personality that troubles her deep inside, it was his appearance as well. Polar is unsettled by how snake-like he appears, and how much his teeth look like fangs. He was the custodian of her soul, and she debated on whether he was a monster. She hated him for forcing her to decide between herself and her sister. But upon death, it all changed. She now sees him as a martyr, a courageous noble standing against the tides of chaos, and she feels even more strongly that he was perfection. but Polar still sees his death in her nightmares, and swears to avenge him. Ptarmigan: “Mother was just a no good traitor. I can’t believe she abandoned me.” Polar has a terrible opinion of Ptarmigan, despite never having met her herself. From stories her father told her, and the little that she knows, she is ashamed to have a servant in her bloodline who would dare leave an infant dragonet alone. Polar has made fantasies in her head of how her mother looks, and imagines her as this terrible hag that she was saved from. But she still wishes that Ptarmigan were still there for her, and she hiddenly believes that any mother is better than no mother at all. What if she were kind and caring? What if she were forced to leave? Petrel: “Never liked her, never will. I fancy she’s one of those nobles who mated for the benefits and riches.” Polar scorns Petrel in secret whenever she has a chance, making disparaging comments about her loyalty and her status as a ‘true’ IceWing. In reality, Polar is miffed at how the dragoness manages to consistently ignore her while showering affection beyond compare to her real dragonet, Equinox. Nurse (Skua): “She was always a tad rough, even when I was a dragonet. I don’t think she liked me very much.” Although Polar respects Skua, being a part of authority connected to the world of her father and the outside, she does not love her by any means. She has no attachment to the nurse, and the feeling is mutual. Skua could seem to care less about Polar’s emotional state, and never comforted her in times of sorrow nor laughed with her. Polar cares for her minimally, enough that she would muster a few tears if she died. |-| Gallery = ❆ Gallery ❆ ---- Sideeyespolar.png|by wings of bloodfire